Price To Play
by TatteredRaven
Summary: Imagine being thrown into a world where human life means nothing. How far would you go to win back your freedom and at what cost? (Chapter 3 added!) Please R&R!
1. Journey

Price To Play  
  
By: DarkDuelist  
  
Disclaimer: Aladdin, Jasmine and Co. are copyright of Disney and I used them without permission, but with love. The name of the city is from the game "Pharaoh", because Angie couldn't think of anything better. (*) mean the character is thinking. The title of this story comes from the Staind song "Price To Play" which is copyright of Staind.  
  
This idea was came from my dear friend Anthony, who impose some very interesting crossovers for Aladdin. This idea originated from the "Angel" episode "The Ring" so credit goes to Joss Whedon. This story has *alot* of twists and turns so, if you get lost my bad. =^_^=  
  
Chapter 1: Journey  
  
They say it's bad luck to turn and face your home once you set out on a journey, because if you do, your trip will be filled with misfortune. Worst yet, if you watch someone journey completely out of sight, you will never see them again. But that's just superstition. Some silly old wives tale that started for some unknown reason. No proof that it's real, so there isn't much to fear. But, than again, there's no proof that it's false as well.  
***  
  
"Please, Sultan? Pretty please?" Genie tuned into a small blue puppy with big sad eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry, Genie, but I think it would be best if Aladdin went on his own this time. Now that Aladdin and Jasmine are married he must learn about diplomacy and the best way to learn is first hand."  
  
"But we've gone on diplomat missions before with Al. Why can't we go now?"  
  
"Because it is best he know how to handle things on his own. You and Carpet can't follow his on all his missions," Sultan replied.  
  
"Sure we can! In fact, we'd be more than happy to."  
  
"Well, I'm afraid that will just not work. Aladdin is going alone and that is final." The sultan crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"Can Carpet go? At least let him go, please?" Genie begged once again.  
  
"Genie..."  
  
"I think I can handle things on my own, Genie." Aladdin said, cutting the sultan off, "And Sultan is right; I should go by myself."  
  
"Well, then, that's settled." Sultan smiled. "I'm sure that you will make us proud, my boy."  
  
A week ago the Sultan told Aladdin that he would be an ambassador of Agrabah at a peace summit in a city called Sharuhen, and that he was to go alone. At first Aladdin wasn't too happy about the idea, but, as time passed, it didn't seem so bad. He would be leaving today and would be gone for two weeks. Since morning Genie had begged and pleaded hoping that Sultan would give in and let him and Carpet go with Aladdin, but, in the end nothing had worked. It was now noon and everyone stood in front of the gates of Agrabah. Aladdin turned and held Jasmine close.  
  
"Well, I guess I'll see you in a few weeks."  
  
"I'll miss you." Jasmine kissed him.  
  
He looked into her eyes and smiled, then kissed her back before getting on his horse and riding away. It wasn't until the group reached the larger dune outside of the city that Aladdin turned back and gave Agrabah one last look.  
  
"You shouldn't have done that," a guard said as Aladdin rode up next to him.  
  
"Done what?" Aladdin questioned, confused.  
  
"Look back at the city. It's bad luck to look back toward your home once you have started a trip."  
  
"That's just some silly superstition."  
  
The guard shrugged. "Believe what you want, but I would be careful if I were you."  
  
Aladdin simply smiled and shook his head. He had never given much thought to superstitions, and he wasn't going to start now.  
  
***  
  
Jasmine watched the group until they couldn't be seen, then turned to go back to the palace. That night she sat on their bed and looked at her portrait of Aladdin.  
  
"Two weeks and I miss him already," Jasmine sighed as she put the portrait back on the table.  
  
*It will go by fast,* Jasmine thought to herself, *Before you know it, he'll be back home.*  
  
The next morning as Jasmine and her father were eating breakfast, they heard someone shouting, and in ran on a guard - the very one that warned Aladdin about the superstition - his uniform torn and bloody.  
  
"Sultan!" The guard gasped before falling to the floor.  
  
"What happened? Where is Aladdin and the other guards?" The sultan asked, alarmed.  
  
"Not long after setting up camp we were attacked. We were outnumber; I was the only one who was lucky enough to get away."  
  
"And Aladdin?" Jasmine asked, fear filling her heart, "What about Aladdin?"  
  
The guard lowered his head. "He tried to fight them off. The last time I saw him he was alive, but I don't know if he got away."  
  
The whole world slowed, as did Jasmine's heart. She could feel tears in her eyes. *Aladdin...*  
  
"We have to go there," Jasmine said quickly, "They might still be alive."  
  
With a group of guards Jasmine and the others followed the guard's directions and found the camp in shambles. The sand was crimson with blood, and in the middle of all the chaos was a pile of charred bones and ash. Jasmine stood there in shock; never had she seen such devastation.  
  
"No," she whispered to herself as she began to search the camp, "he has to be alive."  
  
Every inch of the camp was searched, but nothing was found. The remains were taken back to Agrabah and given a decent burial. Jasmine looked at the graves of the unknown men and sobbed. *I might have just buried my husband.*  
  
With that thought, Jasmine let out an anguish cry. Her father held her close as she cried.  
  
"Two weeks," she moaned, "he would have been home in just to weeks."  
  
***  
  
He awoke to the feeling of discomfort. Everything was blurry, but he could make out some bars; a cage. When he went to move his hands, he found that they were bound to something above his head. The stench of blood and sweat was overwhelming.  
  
"Where am I?" He murmured, not expecting an answer.  
  
"Your in Hell, my friend."  
  
He looked up and saw that he wasn't the only one in the cage. The man who had answered him was across from him and his hand were also tied to the bars. He also noticed that the cage was moving, and he could see the dunes and sand outside, as well as a few other men.  
  
"Where?" His head was pounding so hard it was difficult to think.  
  
"You! Boy! You would be best to keep that mouth of yours shut," one of the men from outside shouted at him.  
  
"What?" he murmured, dazed.  
  
His question was quickly answer with a agonizing blow to the head.  
  
"I said keep silent! You should consider yourself lucky; we could have left you to burn with the rest of your friends."  
  
It wasn't until the guard was far away that other prisoner spoke again.  
  
"You'll learn quick to stay quiet when they're around. Take care, my friend; your life is nothing to these dogs. They will not think twice about killing you now."  
  
"I don't understand. Who are they? Where are we?" he asked again.  
  
"I told you," he said with a sorrowful smile, "we are in Hell." 


	2. Nothing from Nowhere

Chapter 2: Nothing from Nowhere  
  
By: DarkDuelist  
  
Disclaimer: Aladdin, Jasmine and Co. are copyright of Disney, and I used them without permission, but with love. (*) mean the character is thinking. The title of this chapter comes from the AFI song "Miseria Cantare"(The Beginning).  
  
***  
  
She was running as fast as she could. All around her was the wreckage of the campsite. Panic and adrenaline kept her going. Only one thing was on her mind: Aladdin. Suddenly she stopped, tears streaming down her face, and fell to her knees. She couldn't find him and all hope seemed to be lost.  
  
"Jasmine?"  
  
She turned her head and there he was, not a cut or drop of blood on him.  
  
"Aladdin!" She was quickly on her feet and ran toward him, but instead of embracing him she ran though him. She stood there in shock and confusion. She turned back to him and moved to touch his cheek. Once again her hand passed though, as if he was air.  
  
"No, it can't be," she whispered. "How can it be?"  
  
"Because you left me," Aladdin replied, his voice monotone.  
  
"No! I never left you."  
  
"You came, you saw, you left!" He spat the last part.  
  
"I looked everywhere. We all did. We searched every part of the camp. I couldn't find you."  
  
"So you left!" Aladdin snapped, "Just like that you gave up. Was I really that disposable, Jasmine?"  
  
"No, Aladdin, it wasn't like that. You know how much I love you."  
  
"I thought I did. But it doesn't matter now. Because once you leave there's no going back."  
  
With that he faded into nothing, leaving her alone.  
  
"Aladdin!"  
  
***  
  
Jasmine sat up in her bed with sweat pouring down her face. It had been one week since Aladdin had gone missing. She refused to believe that he was really gone. Aladdin was alive, and, no matter how long it took, she would find him.  
  
***  
  
"Get up! All of you to your feet!"  
  
Slowly and stiffly he got to his feet. For days they had traveled, locked in their cages only allowed at night to be out and sleep on the cold ground. The first night a few prisoners decided to try to run away. They didn't get far, and as punishment their feet were cut off and they were left to die. The next night no one dared to run.  
  
"Faster!"  
  
The whip hit him so hard he almost collapsed, but he pushed back the pain and crawled into the cage. His arms were once again chained to the bars, and when everyone was locked in the trip began. His whole body throbbed with agony, and his forehead burned with fever. If the wounds or fever didn't kill him, the hunger would. Since the day he woke to this Hell he hadn't had a thing to eat. Once their captors threw them some scraps, but only those strong enough to fight got any.  
  
"You don't look so well, my friend." The other prisoner was giving him a worried look.  
  
"I don't feel too well, either," he rasped back.  
  
"Don't worry; it will be over soon. They're always the worst for the first week to get rid of the weak ones. I bet tonight we'll get a meal without having to kill one another for it."  
  
The conversation ended there, and for the rest of the day there was silence. His days were filled with periods of unconsciousness and living Hell. Two times that day they stopped, and the dead were thrown out.  
  
The journey felt as if it had lasted a century, but it was only two weeks. In those weeks he had learned a few important lessons: never speak when a guard was close by, never try to get away, and never ask anyone who he was or where he was from. When he had asked his "cellmate" he was quickly hushed.  
  
"Never speak of such things. Don't ever let them hear you even say the word "name" or they'll whip you."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Don't ever ask why!" the other snapped, "Just do it."  
  
When the trip was over, they had come to a city and were made to stand in a line as other men looked them over. It didn't take long to realize that they were being sold as slaves. His "cellmate" was sold quickly and that was the last the young man ever saw of him. Not long afterwards a tall middle-aged man approached and looked at him like one would do any item at market. The man waved a guard over.  
  
"Is he new to the game?"  
  
"Yes, captured from the desert south of here."  
  
"Captured you say." He gave the slave another look. "Did he put up a fight?"  
  
"Oh yes, my lord. He may not look like much, but he is clever."  
  
They left for a few minutes and not after long the guard retuned.  
  
"Congratulations, you have a new master."  
  
After being bought, the prisoner was led back out of the city, his hands and feet chained. They soon came to a small stone building, and inside were nothing but stairs that led down into the ground. At the end of the stairs there was a larger stone room where other slaves were standing in a line. Five, he counted to himself. He noticed two doors: one on the right side, the other on the left. Not long after, two more men walked in from the door on the right. One was dressed simply and had a sword: a guard. The other wore richly made robes with many jewels: the master. The guard who had entered with the master walked down the line, eyeing each of them carefully.  
  
"Some of you have been in places like this before, but many have not, so let's get to it. Whoever you were and where you were from are gone now. Forget every bit of it. You're nothing, and Cyril is your master now." The guard walked to the first man in the line.  
  
"Who are you and where are you from?"  
  
"My name is..."  
  
The guard slapped him across the face.  
  
"No! You are nothing from nowhere and Cyril is your master. Now," he grabbed the slave by his hair, "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm nothing."  
  
"And you're from where?"  
  
"Nowhere."  
  
"And who is your master?"  
  
"Cyril. Cyril is my master."  
  
"Good dog," the guard said with a smile and walked to the next in line.  
  
*So, this is what we're reduced to.*  
  
"Boy!"  
  
He looked up into the guard's eyes.  
  
"Who are you, where are you from and who is your master?"  
  
The slave stood rigidly, not saying a word. *No, I won't let them treat me like an animal anymore.*  
  
The guard slapped him, repeated the question, and once again didn't receive an answer. This time another guard came over and whipped the defiant slave. When the guard asked again and got no answer, Cyril stepped forward.  
  
"You aren't very smart, are you? Take him to the cell! Maybe after a few days there he'll be more willing to talk."  
  
Two guards grabbed him and dragged him to the door on the left. The slaves who had been in places like this one before knew what awaited the poor boy, and also knew that he would soon regret his mistake. 


	3. One of Us

Chapter 3: One of Us

By: DarkDuelist

Disclaimer: Aladdin, Jasmine and Co. are copyright of Disney and I used them without permission, but with love. _Italic_ means the character is thinking.

Author's Notes: Cyril means "lordly" and Eudora mean "delightful gift"

_I can't fight anymore._

The realization came to him as he hang chained to the ceiling. There was no windows, so the boy had no way of knowing how long he had been in the cell. It felt like forever. All he knew was that he was caught in a sick cycle of beatings and endless questioning. The guards would come to torture him and then Cyril would return once more to ask the same questions again: who was he, where did he come from and who was his master? Every time the slave would stay silent and the guards were sent back. He knew now that it was useless and that unless he said what Cyril wanted to hear that they would kill him. So now the salve was left with two choices; to give into to Cyril or give into death.

The sound of the door being unlocked brought the boy back to reality and two guards walked in.

"We're back!" Called the tallest of the two.

The other guard chuckled and step forward. "It's my turn to start this time."

_Time to make a choice._

"No." The boy rasped.

"What was that?" The tall guard asked as he grabbed the slave's ragged shirt.

"I want to see Cyril. Tell him I'll talk to him now."

The guards stared at the boy for a minute and began to laugh.

"I'm afraid that you missed your chance to speak to Cyril." The tall one laugh a little. "Now, if you really want to talk to him your just going to have to deal with us for awhile."

"But I..." The boy murmured.

"The guard slapped him. "Do you think I care about what you want? If you think I do than your as stupid as you look!" He turned to the other guard and smiled. "I believe you said you wanted to start this time?"

With a malicious smile, the other guard walked over to the boy and raised the whip. The cycle had began again as the boy's screams of suffering echoed off the stone walls.

The quiet of the hall was broken as Cyril made his way toward the cell. He was starting to loss his patience with this new slave. Unless he broke soon, Cyril would let his guards finish him off. He turned down another hall and saw one of his guards standing by the door of the cell. As the guards opened the door he smiled at Cyril.

"I'm sure your going to be pleased this time Master Cyril."

"If that damn boy knows what's best for him I better be pleased."

Cyril couldn't help but smirk at what he saw when he walked into the cell. The boy hang from his chains like a rag doll, his clothing were nothing but bloody rags. As Cyril stood in front of the slave he wondered if the boy was still alive.

"Look up at me boy!"

Cautiously the boy looked up, his face bruised and bloodied. In the slave's eyes Cyril could see defeat.

"Well, now" Cyril smirked again, "lets see if you learned anything. I don't have to ask you the questions again, do I?"

"No." The slave answered.

"Well, then go on." Cyril folded his arms across his chest.

"I'm nothing. I came from nowhere. And you are my master." The boy whispered.

"What was that boy?"

The slave took a deep breath and again louder he answered. "I'm nothing from nowhere and you are my master."

Cyril laughed and called for a guard. "Take him to Eudora to be cleaned up."

The guard began to take the slave's chains off and Cyril turned to leave, but then looked back at the slave again.

"See? Was it really that hard to answer my questions?"

When the boy woke up he was laying down on something soft. The last thing he remember was Cyril and everything going dark.

"So, you are alive."

He turned toward the voice and saw a lovely young woman smiling at him.

_Did I die?_

"I thought that they had drag in a dead body when I saw you." she shook her head a little. "That was too close there Hero."

"What?" He mumble confused.

She let out a small giggle and got up and walked over to a table. "I guess your still a bit out of it. I don't blame you, you were beaten so badly." She picked up a small cup and return next to him. "Here, you need to warm up."

The boy tried to sit up but fall back into the pillows and moaned.

"Take it east, Your still wake from the blood lose. You're a lucky one Hero."

He took a sip of the tea and gave her a puzzled looked. "why are you calling me hero?"

"That's what they always call guys like you. The ones that don't answer Cyril's pointless questions and almost get killed. Suicide Heroes, that's what they call them. Well, you should get use to being called that, all the others will call you it too. It beats being called "boy" or the other things they call new players. By the way, my name is Eudora."

"The other players?"

"Yeah, you know the other Ring players. Oh! That's right, you don't really know about the Game or the Ring yet."

"What game? What does a ring have to do with any of this?" His head was beginning to hurt.

"Don't worry. Just take it east for now." she took the cup back. "Trust me, you'll know all you need to know about the Game soon. Just get some sleep Hero."

Slowly his eyes began to close and the ache in his body seemed to lessen. For the first time he was able to sleep in a soft bed and the Hell that he had been through for the past weeks was forgotten.


End file.
